


sunbeams will soon smile through (good morning)

by alesford



Series: our family of choice [26]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alesford/pseuds/alesford
Summary: “Hey! You gonna help me or not?”“That depends. Do you have a fire extinguisher this time?”“That was one time and you were supposed to be in charge of the waffle maker.”“It had faulty wiring.”“You almost burned down my moms’ house.”“Shoulda had a fire extinguisher handy.”ORBelle wants to make breakfast for her moms and enlists Alice's help. She's not sure if she would have been better off with or without it.





	sunbeams will soon smile through (good morning)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HaughtPocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaughtPocket/gifts).



> Happy birthday, HaughtPocket!

**sunbeams will soon smile through (good morning)**

_so, good morning_  
_good morning_  
_sunbeams will soon smile through_  
_good morning_  
_good morning to you and you and you and you  
\- ‘good morning’ from singing in the rain_

 

Standing in the kitchen, Belle glares at her cousin who is aimlessly thumbing at her phone. They were supposed to leave half an hour ago, and even though Belle is much more adaptable to change than she was ten years ago, she still is perturbed by unexpected hiccups in her plans.

“Hey, asshole. You gonna help me or not?”

“That depends. Do you have a fire extinguisher this time?”

“That was one time and you were supposed to be in charge of the waffle maker.”

“It had faulty wiring.”

“You almost burned down my moms’ house.”

“Shoulda had a fire extinguisher handy.”

Belle points a finger at Alice, her face scrunching into a grumpy scowl. “We’re just doing French toast this time. It can’t be that hard. Wynonna can make French toast.”

Alice snorts and shakes her head. She leans against the kitchen counter, twirling her keyring around her index finger. “Mom only made French toast that one time that Jeremy showed her step-by-step so she could prove to dad that she could cook. Pretty sure she couldn’t do it again without somebody to show her how.”

Belle sighs and runs her fingers through her blonde hair. It’s grown long again and it most definitely needs a trim. She tugs at the hair tie around her wrist and pulls her hair back into a sloppy mess of a ponytail.

“Look, I still want to make French toast for my moms’ anniversary tomorrow,” she says. “And to do that, I need vegan bread but the closest vegan bakery is in the city and I only have my learner’s license. The bakery opens in like five minutes and I want to make sure I get the right kind of bread.”

Alice glances down at the phone in her hand, observing the time with a frown. “Shit,” she swears. “I swear I wasn’t trying to be an asshat on purpose.” She pauses, shoving her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “This time, at least?”

She pushes away from the counter with an apologetic smile. “I’ll take you to every vegan bakery in the city if I fucked this up for you. I promise.”

“All right,” Belle hums, accepting the offered apology. “Can we leave now?”

Alice knocks her shoulder playfully as she heads towards the front door. “I’m already halfway there, slowpoke.”

 

-

 

They stop by the supermarket once they’re back within Purgatory’s city limits. Belle is grateful that her mama got Mr. Harrison to stock non-dairy alternative milks ages ago because that’s really the only other thing that she needs besides some fresh good, ripe bananas.

  
(How bananas can act as a substitute for eggs, Belle has no idea. She’s just going to follow the recipe.)

  
She secrets all three loaves of vegan bread—  
  
yes, Alice, all of them are necessary because who knows whether this sourdough, that sourdough, or the ciabatta will make better French toast  
  
—in her bedroom in a place where BQ or Pigeon won’t get into them if Waverly lets them into the house tonight.

  
Damn hellcats.

  
Alice steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind her before tossing her phone onto the neatly-made bed. “Mom says to call her if we need any help making the French toast because she’s a _pro._ ” She follows her phone, flopping belly-first and shimmying until she’s side-by-side with Belle.

“I already have Jeremy on standby,” Belle tells her. “The recipe on the website doesn’t look too difficult.” She passes her phone to Alice, the recipe from _Vegan Richa_ open in the browser. “We just have to figure out how to blend the bananas without waking up my moms.”

“Hand blender?”

Belle shrugs, and Alice feels it rather than sees it. Belle is almost as tall as Nicole these days, which leaves her more than a few inches taller than Alice, who somehow inherited whatever short genes exist in the Gibson family tree.

“We’ve probably got one somewhere for when the power goes out.”

“We’re probably going to ruin a skillet with these caramelized bananas.”

“Probably.”

“Your moms will want to eat at the table and not in bed, you know.”

“It’s supposed to be breakfast in bed.”

“Crumbs. Syrup. Spilled coffee.”

“Stop ruining my plan.”

“It’s as poorly thought-out as the time that we tried to start a rock and roll band.”

Belle throws an elbow sideways, connecting with Alice’s ribcage and earning a satisfied ‘ _oomph’_. “That was all your plan, first and foremost. I was just being a supportive best friend.”

Alice scoffs. “Whatever. You picked the song. Which means I get to pick what kind of pizza we’re having tonight.”

“We like the same toppings, weirdo.”

“Which means you won’t be offended when I ask Nicole to order us a bacon pineapple pizza.”

“Nope,” Belle says, emphasizing the ‘p’ sound with a pop of her lips. “But I’m still picking tonight’s movie.”

Alice bounces off the bed as soon as she hears the front door open and Nicole’s heavy work boots against the wooden floors. “As long as it’s not _Hocus Pocus_ again.”

Belle sits up, ready to defend her favorite choice of film. “It’s the perfect movie for any time of year, and it’s Sarah Jessica Parker’s best role ever!” she calls out to her cousin who’s already through her bedroom door and probably halfway down the stairs.

 

-

 

They manage not to burn the caramelized bananas.

They burn the French toast, instead.

Only kinda sorta.

The preemptively removed the batteries from the smoke detector — just in case — so they really just have to open the windows in the kitchen and swing some dish towels around to try to get the air circulating to clear out the smoke.

It isn’t _that_ much smoke, and if Belle is honest, the French toast still looks edible. It smells good, even if it does look a little… charred. But that’s why she bought two extra loaves of bread. Besides, the first batch never turns out right. Pancakes, waffles, French toast; that’s just the way things go.

“You keep clearing out the smoke and I’ll try again,” she tells Alice, already scraping the burnt bits from the pan into the sink. “French toast can’t be this hard to make, even if it is vegan.”

She turns back to her mixture of blended banana, sugar, almond milk, and everything else that the recipe listed. There’s determination in her eyes and she murmurs to herself, “You’ve got this, Haught.” Belle grabs the bread knife and slices several more wedges of sourdough from loaf number two. The slimy mixture is sticky and tactilely disgusting, but she dredges each piece carefully, adding them to the scrubbed skillet.

They sizzle. She keeps the the flame lower this time, minding the heat with a little more caution and a little more thoughtfulness.

Behind her, Alice continues wave a towel through the air, trying and almost succeeding at clearing out the rest of the smoke from their first attempt.

Piece by piece, the French toast releases from the pan, crisp and sweet-smelling and not a speck of ash to be seen. Belle piles the slices high on a plate, setting it carefully in the middle of the kitchen table beside the caramelized bananas, sliced fruit, powdered sugar, and maple syrup that she has arranged with care. There’s a fresh pot of coffee, too, and tea if her mama wants that instead.

  
(She accepted that Alice was right; neither Nicole nor Waverly would want to eat breakfast _in_ bed. They would rather sit at the kitchen table and stare at each other with gross heart eyes. Nicole would do the crossword puzzle in the newspaper and Waverly would read whatever book she’s currently working through.)

  
Belle is just about to go and knock on their bedroom door when she hears bare feet thundering down the stairs.

“Where’s the fire?” her mom shouts. She’s in her flannel pajama pants and an oversized PSD t-shirt.

There’s also a fire extinguisher in her hands.

“See?” Alice points out. “Your mom knows how to prepare.”

Nicole’s eyes narrow as she surveys the kitchen. It’s a mess. The kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes, her niece is still flapping a dish towel in the air, and her daughter has an empty skillet and a spatula in her hands.

“After the waffle incident—”

“Faulty wiring!” Alice grouses. Loudly.

“Uh-huh,” Nicole says, setting the fire extinguisher on the floor beside the bookcase in the living room. She leans on the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s all this, monkey?”

Waverly isn’t far behind, but she’s further from awake than her wife as she pads to Nicole’s side. “What are you kids doing up?” she asks, her mouth stretching wide into a yawn, drawing out her question in a way that is most certainly not adorable.

Nicole wraps her arms around Waverly, holding her close. “I think our daughter was trying to make us breakfast for our anniversary.”

“Mm,” her mama hums sleepily. “That’s nice. Five years earned us breakfast.”

Belle deposits the skillet and spatula into the sink. “Being awesome moms earned you breakfast. Alice and I are going to go back to bed now, so you two can be disgustingly domestic and enjoy some vegan French toast.”

“Vegan French toast?” Waverly’s eyes widen with wakefulness.

“Coffee, too,” Nicole says. “Would you like me to pour you a cup, Mrs. Haught?”

Waverly turns in her arms, grinning brightly. “I’d love a cup of coffee, Mrs. Haught.”

Alice pretends to gag and makes for the stairs in a dramatic hurry. Belle rolls her eyes, but she’s slower to follow, stopping in front of her moms first.

“I love you both,” she whispers softly as the early morning sunlight casts warmth and brightness through the kitchen window. “Happy anniversary, moms.” She presses a kiss to each of their cheeks and slips away to leave her moms to enjoy the rest of their morning.

“I love our kid. And I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mrs. Haught.”

 

 


End file.
